


Copycat

by puss_nd_boots



Category: DIAURA, the GazettE
Genre: Frottage, Held Down, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:52:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4043023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/puss_nd_boots/pseuds/puss_nd_boots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yo-ka has been hearing from all over about how GazettE’s new stage uniforms are a little too close to Diaura’s – ultimately resulting in him going to talk about GazettE leader Kai about the situation. Except there might be a hell of a lot more to this meeting than business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Copycat

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Get Kai Some Love! challenge at Livejournal's kai_pleasure community. Yes, this is inspired by the resemblance of GazettE’s 13th Anniversary look to several looks Diaura has sported in the past – most notably the Silent Majority PV – though as far as I know, the resemblance sparked no real-life social media firestorm in Japan (just some comments on Tumblr here in the West).

The first time Yo-ka heard about the “copycatting” was from the online rumor mill.

That was the first place anyone in the industry heard anything, really. Hell, sometimes the rumor mill knew things before the band did. The fangirls who manned those anonymous message boards had better spy networks than most major nations.

Of course, they got as many things wrong as they did right. Which was why it was considered healthy to greet anything posted there with skepticism. That was precisely what Yo-ka did in this case. He’d believe the rumor when he saw actual proof of it.

The second time he heard about it was from the young staff members of the magazine where he and Kei had gone for a photoshoot. The whispers circulated around the room like kids not wanting to get caught by the teacher.

“But I swear, they copied them almost exactly.” “How do you know for sure? I mean, we haven’t seen the outfits yet, have we?” “Well, my sister has a friend who works in the PSC office, and she saw the costumes firsthand, and she swears they’re just about identical . . .”

Now he was getting slightly curious. Not enough to actually believe it, mind you. He was still taking the rumor with a grain of salt – just not the whole shaker anymore.

He knew things were getting serious, though, when people started messaging him about it. Just fans on Twitter at first, then a few more people on the outer fringes of the industry, then some other musicians . . .

But he knew he couldn’t ignore it any longer when it came up in one of their meetings.

“I’m afraid there’s a very nasty rumor going around,” their manager said, “which I’m currently trying to discover the source of. It seems the GazettE is being accused of copying our stage outfits.”

* * *

The band was in their favorite bar, near the Ains offices, when the actual photos finally surfaced.

It was a writer for one of the music magazines who E-mailed it to Yo-ka. “Here you go,” he said. “This is what all the fuss is about. Personally, I don’t see the big deal – there’s been a thousand guys who looked like this.”

Yo-ka glanced at the picture, and then held his phone up for his bandmates to see. “This is it,” he said. “It’s the costumes for their 13th anniversary live.”

Shoya leaned over to get a closer look, squinting a little. “Okay, I can see it,” he said.

“It’s kind of close, isn’t it?”

Tatsuya leaned toward the phone as well. “I mean, it’s not exact, but . . .”

“It’s the collars.” Shoya leaned over so close that Yo-ka had to pull the phone back a little, trying to keep his bandmate from mashing into the screen. “The collars are the same.”

“We didn’t have hats like that, though,” Tatsuya said. “But that’s one detail.”

“But we’re not the only people to have worn uniforms like that,” Yo-ka said. “People have been wearing this kind of stuff throughout the history of visual kei. It goes all the way back to when Buck-Tick was a new band.”

“The fangirls don’t know that, though,” Tatusya said. “I’ve been hearing about nothing else for days.”

“Same here,” said Shoya. “From everyone.”

Yo-ka sighed and looked over at Kei. “What do you think?” he said.

Kei shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve seen worse,” he said.

“Well, even if it was a copy, what could we do about it?” Yo-ka said. “A band can’t copyright a look. I guess you can copyright a pattern, but when it’s something based on a basic German military uniform . . .”

“Maybe we could talk to the GazettE?” Shoya said. “They might not be aware of how close the outfits are.”

“Are you kidding?” said Yo-ka. “An indie band is just going to march up to the biggest band in visual kei and tell them they should change their stage outfits because they’re too close to something we wore last year?”

“It can’t hurt,” Shoya said.

“Maybe one of us could just have a sit-down with their leader?” Tatsuya said. “Just make sure they weren’t trying to copy us?”

“Even if they were,” said Yo-ka, “I still can’t see what we could do.”

“Well, if they’re not, we can get rid of the copycat rumor, can’t we?” said Shoya. “We can say something on Twitter.”

Yo-ka looked over at Kei again. “Do you think we should do this?” he said.

Kei shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever,” he said.

“Come on – it can’t hurt, right?” said Shoya.

Yo-ka sighed. He thought the whole thing was, well, absurd. A tempest in a teapot. It was no big deal, it would probably blow over . . .

Except there was a chance, just a chance, that it could blow up, get nasty and get ugly, with fans of both bands sniping at each other all over social media. Which wouldn’t reflect well on either group.

In short, he pretty much had no choice but to go along with Shoya’s idea.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll do this. Let’s play rock-paper-scissors. Loser has to go talk to . . . which one is their leader again?”

“Kai,” Tatsuya said.

“Right, Kai. And if he says there was no real copycatting, we drop the whole thing unless the fans get out of hand with it.”

“Works for me,” Shoya said.

“I’m in,” Tatsuya added.

Kei just shrugged.

Fine, so they were going to play rock-paper-scissors, and that would be it. Yo-ka had a three-in-four chance of NOT being the one picked – and to him, those were pretty good odds.

* * *

By the time he was calling in favors to get a connection to Kai, he was cursing whoever invented rock-paper-scissors with everything he had.

Fortunately, he was friends with Ryoga from BORN, which happened to be a PSC band. Ryoga got in touch with his friend Kouki from D=OUT, whose bandmate Reika was good friends with Kazuki from SCREW, who just happened to be BFFs with Aoi from GazettE. Somehow, thorough all the daisy chaining and second-third-fourth-hand info, they managed to set up a meeting for Kai and Yo-ka at a bar near PSC’s headquarters.

“Just tell him it’s something business-related,” Yo-ka said to Ryoga. “Don’t tell him the truth – he’ll never show up.”

He had no idea what to expect the night of the designated meeting. He was fresh from another photoshoot, so he was still in full makeup. Great, he’d be drawing attention to himself on top of everything else.

Yo-ka walked into the bar, glancing around – and saw someone waving to him from a back table. He had long, light-brown hair, a T-shirt with the words “RAD MAN” on it . . . and full makeup as well. It seemed that there were a lot of photoshoots today.

“Hi,” Yo-ka said, approaching the table. “Sorry for being overdressed, we’re working on a new single, and . . .”

Kai held up his hand. “It’s okay, I just came from a shoot, too. Changed my clothes but not the makeup. It’s nice to meet you, by the way. I’ve long been an admirer of your band.”

Okay, even with the they-stole-our-outfits accusations, that was a surprise. “You have?”

“Yes, I have. Almost from the time you made your debut. You have a bold style – and you’re a great performer.”

Well, that wasn’t supporting Yo-ka’s theory that GazettE knew nothing about Diaura and the similarity was a coincidence. It fact, things were starting to tilt dangerously toward, “Surprise, the fangirl gossips were right – for once!”

He decided the best thing was to play it cool. “Thank you very much,” he said, bowing politely. “We try.”

“Ruki’s an admirer of yours, too. He’s the one who’s responsible for our looks. I’m the leader, yes . . . but in a lot of ways, he’s as much of the leader as I am. Maybe even more.”

Well, that should have set off more alarm bells for Yo-ka, as well as a sneaking suspicion that he was talking to the wrong guy and he should be conversing with Ruki. Except that something strange was happening instead.

Yo-ka wasn’t noticing the words that were being spoken. Well, not as much as he should be, given what he was there for. No, he was starting to get very distracted by his companion.

He wasn’t one to get his head turned easily by a pretty face. Given the kind of profession he was in, and the guys he was always surrounded by, getting your head turned by a pretty face could be flat-out fatal. 

But there was something about Kai’s look that wasn’t like all the fresh-faced pretty boys he was surrounded by. There was a sweetness to him, to be sure – but there was also something underlying, a look in his eyes that conveyed a certain darkness, a hint that he wasn’t as innocent as he seemed.

Oh, and then there were the dimples. Kai had the kind that made his smiles seem five times as bright, as if he was going to light up the entire room. Yeah, it was best to look away if Yo-ka wanted to maintain any concentration – or sanity.

Somehow, his brain managed to function enough to send the following words down to his mouth, which he somehow said to Kai in coherent Japanese: “I like what you guys have done, too. I mean, you guys have done stuff no other band has done. Like, all the experimenting with different styles . . .”

“It’s because we have different backgrounds,” Kai said. “I come from jazz, Reita from punk, and Ruki . . . he’s into a different thing every moment. And then I have the job of holding all this together. . . . which gets challenging. You know that too, though, don’t you? You’ve been through a few bands?”

“Too many,” Yo-ka said. Okay, they were on a comfortable subject, band stuff. He was starting to get his concentration back. “And then we had a rough start with Diaura before we got the lineup we needed. Once we got the right drummer, though, it fell into place.”

“It always comes down to the drummer, doesn't it?” Kai said, smiling broadly. Great, there were those dimples again, shining a light like a billion suns and making Yo-ka’s stomach feel like it was doing a triple somersault off a diving board.

Kai didn’t seem to notice. “Not to toot my own horn, but I hear that from so many groups – it didn’t come together until they found the right drummer,” he said. “The members of my own band told me that. They’d had another guy when they started, and then he left, and I came in. The official story was that he was continuing his education, but I think it might have been because . . .”

And then, Kai stopped abruptly, as if he was going to say something and thought better of it. “Never mind.”

Yo-ka looked baffled. “Never mind? What was it?”

“Nothing important,” Kai said. “Why don’t I order us drinks?”

And Yo-ka was suddenly left with the big question of what Kai was going to say. Why did it have him so very curious – and why did he suddenly care about that more than the original question of the stage outfits?

* * *

That original question still hadn’t come up by the time they were on their third round of drinks.

They’d talked a lot about their bands, though, and tours they’d done, and terrible livehouses they’d played in. (Yes, Kai had been in many of the same places Yo-ka had played – and it seemed they were just as bad in GazettE’s early days. Maybe even worse.)

Yo-ka got a chance to talk about how he developed the “Dictatorial Aura” concept of his band, and how he got his inspirations for lyrics, and how he developed concepts for presentations. It was actually nice to have someone to talk to about this outside his band, and the circle of indie performers they kept bumping into over and over on the livehouse circuit. Hell, he didn’t think he’d ever had an in-depth discussion with anyone from a major label before.

He’d also never had a discussion with anyone so maddeningly distracting. His eyes kept being drawn to Kai, running over the planes of that face that was innocent and not innocent, light with hints of the other side . . .

And crowned by those dimples. Those damn, maddening dimples that came and went, seeming to tug at his heart every time they did. This evening was definitely not having the outcome it was supposed to. This was supposed to be a calm talk between professionals about a costume design that might be too close for comfort, not . . .

The words that were in the back of Yo-ka’s mind were “Potential fireworks.” Because if he looked at Kai much longer, he felt like something within him was going to explode.

Fortunately, the discussion changed to a subject he could keep his mind on - their early influences, bands they had listened to while growing up. Kai said, “The old style of kotei kei hasn’t left our blood, has it? Any of us. All of us.”

“It never has, and it never will,” Yo-ka said. “No matter what direction visual kei takes – that’s always the root. The old bands.”

“That’s what we’re doing with our anniversary show,” Kai said. “The costumes are a tribute to old visual kei.” He got out his phone, opened the photos and held it out to Yo-ka. “See?”

And there was the picture that had caused such a fuss in the office, the reason Yo-ka was there in the first place. Before his eyes were GazettE in uniforms that were disturbingly close to Diaura’s Silent Majority costumes.

Crap. He had to say something now. It was what he came for. It was what everyone was expecting of him – a smackdown of GazettE. The indie band telling the major one they couldn’t get away with stealing their outfits, David vs. Goliath – right?

Except . . . he’d never really believed GazettE had stolen the outfits, had he? It had been his bandmates who’d believed that. He’d gotten dragged into it, and now . . .

Now, Kai was sitting there with that phone and those dimples, and Yo-ka’s brain was turning to mush.

He just silently got out his own phone, opened it up and found a picture from their Silent Majority shoot – and held it out toward Kai.

Yo-ka saw a slight frown cross the drummer’s face. He looked from one picture to the other and back to the first again. And suddenly, Yo-ka felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Why did it mean so much to him that Kai might disapprove? That he might realize Yo-ka’s intent in coming here, and storm out? What the hell was happening to him – what was it about this guy that reduced him to a teenager?

But instead, a wide, dimpled smile crossed Kai’s face, and he said, “We think more alike than I thought we did. See, we have deep common roots. I’d completely forgotten about that look of yours.”

“You had?” Yo-ka tried to keep the surprised-and-happy tone out of his voice.

“Yes. But now that I see it . . . well, it shows that both bands are brothers, doesn’t it? We may be going in slightly different directions, but we came from the same place.”

They didn’t steal the look. Not consciously. Thank God. Now Yo-ka could go back to his band and put all that nonsense to rest.

After he stayed here for awhile. Just a little while. He was starting to genuinely enjoy Kai’s company. It was all about having someone else to talk to about music – right? Never mind basking in the light of that beaming smile and those maddening dimples . . .

* * *

Halfway through their next drink, with Kai’s inhibitions considerably relaxed, Yo-ka found out what he’d started to tell him before.

They were talking about sleeping arrangements on the road, how both bands had started out with everyone in the back of one van, and finally progressed to hotels. “We sleep two of us to a room now,” Yo-ka said. “And we switch off who’s with who, so nobody gets a chance to get annoyed with anyone else’s habits.”

“I remember that kind of thing,” Kai said with a smile.

“So I’m guessing at your level, you all get your own rooms every night?” Yo-ka said.

Kai shifted around, looked down, and said, “We could . . . but we don’t.”

“What do you mean?” Yo-ka said.

“It’s always Aoi with Uruha, Ruki with Reita, and me having a room to myself. That’s the way it’s always been, as long as I’ve been there.”

Yo-ka looked confused. “Permanent roommates?” he said.

“Couples,” Kai said. “Ruki’s been with Reita, Aoi with Uruha, as long as I’ve been in the band.” Pause. “Even before.”

“Is . . . is that why Yune left?” Yo-ka said. “Because he didn’t want to be the fifth wheel?”

“Well, I don’t know for sure,” Kai said. “But . . . I’ve always suspected it.”

“You’ve been leading the band all along – and it’s been two couples? So you’ve been single all this time?”

“Not all this time,” Kai said. “I’ve had some boyfriends – one relationship lasted a few years, it was with a guy on our staff. We split up because, well . . .” He looked away. “Conflict of interest.”

God. Yo-ka instantly felt for Kai. That had to suck, being the one single guy when everyone else was together.

“I’m used to the way things are by now,” Kai said. “It’s challenging, like I said, and . . .”

“Lonely?”

“Sometimes,” Kai said. “Most of the time, I’m too busy to be lonely.” He gave a small smile – not the light-up-the-room ones he showed before – and suddenly looked at Yo-ka, saying,, “What about you?”

“Me?” An answer of absolute brilliance.

“Is there anyone in your life right now?”

Yo-ka shook his head. “There hasn’t been for a long time. Permanently, I mean. There’s been passing fancies of both genders, but . . .”

“You’re still looking for the right person like I am.”

“Guilty.” Yo-ka looked up, and his small smile matched Kai’s.

Kai broke the gaze and looked down. “You know, in everything we’ve talked about tonight, there’s one question that hasn’t come up.”

“Which is?”

“Why did you ask for this meeting in the first place?”

Well, he couldn’t tell him that now, could he? Instead, he said, “Why did you accept?”

“Because I’ve always found you attractive. It’s not something you go around advertising – that you find another guy in a band hot. But there you go.” He flashed the dimples. “And you still haven’t answered my question.”

“The answer is . . .” Yo-ka leaned over toward him. “That it doesn’t matter why I asked for the meeting. Not anymore. Because I know what I’m here for now.”

He glanced around briefly, to see if anyone was looking . . . and when he was satisfied that nobody was, he leaned over and kissed Kai’s lips, briefly. He felt the other man stiffen in shock – and then, start to respond.

Kai leaned backward. “So, is this officially a date, then?”

“That depends,” Yo-ka said.. “Do you usually go home with a guy on the first date?”

“Do you?”

“Are you asking?”

Kai leaned over and repeated the kiss, letting his tongue flick out a little, telling Yo-ka just what he had in mind.

“I’ve got condoms, lube and stuff for breakfast at my place,” the drummer said when they parted. “Is that invitation enough?”

“Good,” Yo-ka said. “Let’s go.”

They paid their tabs and went straight outside to find a taxi. In a way, this was insane. He’d gone to this man to talk about stage clothes. He was going to end up with his clothes on the guy’s bedroom floor.

It was beyond rock and roll madness. It was something you couldn’t put in a movie script, because the producer would say it was too unbelievable.

But in a way, it was the best outcome there could possibly be.

* * *

The cab ride was a blur. So was the ride up in the elevator, all breathless kisses and eager groping and hoping nobody would get in on any of the other floors.

When they entered Kai’s apartment, they paused just long enough to remove their shoes before they were in each other’s arms, mouths pressing against each other, tongues invading and stroking. There was going to be no pretense of “May I offer you snacks or a drink” beforehand. They both knew what they were there for.

To that end, Kai grabbed Yo-ka’s hand and led him down the hall to his bedroom. There was a pause just long enough for Kai to light the tapers on the bedside table – during which time Yo-ka shed his clothing, because he was in no hurry to keep them on. Kai’s clothes hit the floor shortly afterward, and they fell on the bed, a tangle of arms and mouths and naked flesh.

Yo-ka opened his lips and plundered Kai’s mouth eagerly as his hands moved over the other man’s body, exploring whatever was there - since his eyes didn’t get much of a chance to behold him before they were horizontal. Oh, he had nice skin and muscle tone, all right. It was obvious he worked out. Not to mention - the arms.

The vocalist ran his fingers down each arm, feeling the muscles, the sculpted shape - very typical for a drummer and sexy as hell.

Curious about whether his chest was just as hot, Yo-ka raised his head and started to kiss his way down Kai’s neck, feeling the other man arch up toward him, tipping his head back. He reached the collarbone and bit a little, bringing a gasp from his new lover.

And yes, his chest was gorgeous. Yo-ka ran his fingers over the smooth flesh, muscle-sculpted and broad and made to be explored. His tongue touched the skin, running over it in small circles, feeling the other man’s heartbeat beneath it . . .

He felt a hard bud under his tongue and lifted his head to look. Even in the candlelight, he could see that Kai’s nipples were delicious - hard and dark and inviting. He wrapped his lips around the closest one and started to suck.

“Aaah!” Kai cried out, arching toward him and wrapping his legs around Yo-ka’s hips, making him suck harder, tonguing the nipple . . .

And then, he became aware of the hardness pressing against him. Oh. My. God. Was he really feeling what he thought he was?

As he sucked the other bud, Kai pressed against him again, and Yo-ka’s suspicions were confirmed - Kai was huge. One of the biggest men he’d ever been with, if not the biggest. It filled him with a spontaneous thrill - and also a little fear. Could he handle something that big?

There was only one way to find out. He began to move downward, kissing over Kai’s flat stomach, hearing a loud moan of anticipation. “Yes,” Kai murmured. “I want your mouth on me . . .”

It was only when he reached Kai’s lower stomach that Yo-ka remembered he was still in full makeup, and he was leaving lipstick marks on Kai’s flesh. Well, he didn’t mind that at all - the idea of marking this man as his was pretty fucking hot. He nipped at his lower belly to further that end, just hard enough to leave teeth marks, drawing a shudder from Kai.

And then, Yo-ka stopped suddenly, gasping. There it was in front of him, in all its full glory. It was huge, all right, and rock-hard. It looked like the object of some phallic worship cult. He felt his own cock harden more just at the sight of it.

This had to be handled with the reverence it was due. He began by kissing it, along the shaft, working his way upward, slowly. His tongue touched it, and fuck, it was glorious, musky and smooth and so hot, so goddamn hot . . .

He explored the tip, licking his way over the ridges, feeling the slit on top, getting a little shudder in response as he licked in circles around the place where it joined the shaft.

“Suck me,” Kai moaned, reaching down and grabbing Yo-ka’s hair, and there was no way in hell the vocalist was turning that invitation down. He opened his lips, moving down on it little by little – he wasn’t going to ruin this moment by choking.

Once he got in all he could handle, he started to suck, thinking Kai filled his mouth completely, almost too much - but that little hint of danger was what made it totally thrilling and satisfying. It was definitely a challenge to keep the suction steady, to move it in and out just far enough.

But the noises Kai was making were worth it, because he was letting out long, raw, ragged moans, noises of pure need, his hands grabbing at the back of Yo-ka’s head, pulling at the hair.

Yo-ka relaxed more, taking more of him in, sucking vigorously now, starting to move up and down on him at a faster pace, thinking he was being thoroughly mouth-fucked, completely possessed by this man. He moved down a little more, and Kai’s moans were sweetest music to him, making his own cock flat-out throb . . .

Kai pressed up on his shoulders. Yo-ka raised his head, looking up at him with curiosity, wondering if he was doing something wrong . . .

Only to find himself tumbled onto his back, his hands grabbed and held over his head, pinned to the mattress by Kai’s strong grip. Kai was lowering his head, sucking Yo-ka’s nipple hard, and now it was Yo-ka’s turn to arch and moan.

He couldn’t move the upper part of his body - Kai was holding him fast - and he didn’t want to. He just spread his legs, lifting his hips toward the older man’s, expressing his lust the only way he could.

The mouth moved to the other side, sucking in the second nipple, seeming to devour it, as Yo-ka began to grind himself against Kai, trying to press his cock against him, rub it into him, get any kind of stimulation he could. He was throbbing all over, covered with sweat, feeling like he was reduced to being nothing but a huge erection.

Kai released Yo-ka and sat up just enough to grab a small bottle from the nighttable, and as he turned, Yo-ka raised his head, wanting to feast his eyes on that beauty, to see his skin glowing in the candlelight, watch the play of muscles under smooth flesh.

Kai opened the bottle, drizzling some lube over Yo-ka’s hardness, then put it back on the table. He stretched out on top of the younger man, grabbing his hands and pinning them down again, shifting his hips so their cocks would rub against each other.

Oh, God, yes. Yo-ka moaned, tilting forward, feeling his hardness brush the hugeness of Kai’s, the lube making it easier. He began a slow thrust, grinding himself into his new lover . .

And Kai thrust back, moving his hips like a dancer, back and forth, seeming to rub every part of Yo-ka’s erection with every part of his. He leaned over to claim Yo-ka’s lips in a fierce kiss, tongue-fucking his mouth, moaning into him as Yo-ka wrapped a leg around Kai’s hip, trying to pull them even closer.

They were starting to move faster now, harder, grinding into one another, Yo-ka lifting himself up off the bed over and over, trying to rub every inch of him against Kai, reveling in the feeling of something so hot and rock-hard and fucking huge against him, thinking this was probably the most purely male way two guys could make love . . .

Kai moved his head to Yo-ka’s neck, biting at the skin a little. Yo-ka cried out, the spike of pain mixing with the pleasure, driving him all the more mad, making the heat in his belly expand and get more intense and his heart throb harder and his hips churn faster, sliding cock against cock, droplets of precome mixing with the lube now, making it all slicker and hotter and wilder . . .

Another small bite to his neck, and Yo-ka cried out, “Kai, I’m coming . . .” He arched upward off the bed, letting out an animal cry as the pleasure exploded so intensely that he felt it in the tips of his fingers and toes, an orgasm so overwhelming that everything went white for a second - the first time that had happened in eons.

Kai thrust a few more times, and then he stiffened, pulling back from Yo-ka enough to come all over him, striping his stomach and groin with white. Fuck, Yo-ka wanted to be bathed in this man’s come. He wanted it head to toe.

Kai collapsed atop him, and Yo-ka realized his hands were finally released from his new lover’s grip. He wrapped his arms around Kai, holding him closer, both of them breathing heavily and not saying anything for a long moment.

They kissed softly, and Kai said, “You’re even more delicious than I thought you’d be.”

“You were unbelievable,” Yo-ka said. “I can’t remember the last time I came that hard.”

“Neither can I,” Kai said. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Yo-ka shook his head.

“That you’re not going anywhere. You’re staying right here all night long.”

Yo-ka reached up and stroked Kai’s hair. “I’m not going to say no to that,” he said.

“And if tonight was a date?” Kai said. “It definitely wasn’t our last.”

“Good.” Yo-ka closed his eyes. He needed a nap. He was completely exhausted - but the good kind.

The goddamn stage costumes didn’t matter anymore. GazettE could wear clones of every outfit Diaura had ever sported onstage as far as he was concerned - especially now that he knew what Kai was like when he was wearing nothing at all.

And the last thing he thought before he drifted off to sleep was that he wanted to thank whoever invented rock-paper-scissors.

* * *

He dutifully reported back to the band the next day that there was no conscious effort on GazettE’s part to steal their designs, that they were just doing a tribute to old-school VK. That seemed to put the issue to rest - especially since the social media firestorm was dying down a bit. The fangirls had moved on to another scandal, anyway, this one involving a certain band member’s alleged wife - and alleged girlfriends.

When the GazettE’s 13th anniversary came along, Yo-ka was fortunately available to attend - in a very private VIP area, covered in a big hat and a surgical mask and glasses. He was escorted backstage during the last encore, where he took off his disguise - knowing full well that he’d be taking off a lot more later, when they got back to Kai’s place.

As soon as Kai was backstage, he spotted Yo-ka, rushed over to him and drew him into an embrace. “How was it?” he said.

“Incredible. Like you guys always are.” And you wore those uniforms as well as we did, he thought - but he wasn’t going to say that.

He heard a voice next to him saying, “Oi! Kai, is this the surprise you said you had for us?” Yo-ka lifted his head and saw Reita, one hand holding a glass of champagne, other arm wrapped around Ruki.

“Maybe,” Kai said. “Ruki, Reita, this is Yo-ka. He’s my very special guest tonight.”

“And every night?” Reita said - earning him an elbow in the ribs from Ruki.

“That was rude,” Ruki snapped.

“Well, hey, look at them,” Reita said. He had a point - there was a lot to see right now. Namely, a spontaneous, hot kiss.

“If you’re asking if I’ve found what I’m looking for?” Kai said as the kiss broke. He wrapped his arms around the other man and drew him tighter. “Yes. I have.”

“Well, congratulations,” Ruki said. “It’s about fucking time.”

“I think so,” Kai said. “Don’t you?”

Yo-ka wrapped his arms around Kai. “I think I’ve found what I’m looking for, too,” he said.

And later, he was going to thank Ruki for those uniforms. Because whether or not it was conscious, it seemed that GazettE having stage costume a bit too close to Diaura’s was the best thing that could possibly happen.


End file.
